


It's the sturdy kind that doesn't mind the snow

by conching



Category: Heneral Luna (2015), Heneral Luna (2015) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas Fluff, FAMYlia, Famylia AU, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-15
Updated: 2018-11-15
Packaged: 2019-08-24 01:37:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16630424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/conching/pseuds/conching
Summary: Christmas wasn't always Miong and Pole's favorite holiday, but the cute new addition to their small family proved them otherwise.





	It's the sturdy kind that doesn't mind the snow

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from Michael Bublé's "It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas".

“It’s almost five,” Pole hiked a leg over Miong’s as his index finger traced lazy circles on Miong’s chest. “Do you think the Court will give him to us?”

“It would be a crime if they didn’t. We’ll be such good parents.” He planted a soft kiss on the top of Pole’s head.

“Will we really?”

“No,” Pole thwacked Miong’s chest repeatedly in retaliation, and he pulled him back down before Pole could protest. “You didn’t let me finish, love. We’d be _great_ parents.”

“I just, I really want him to be _our_ kid, you know? The first time we saw him at the Center, I already knew he would be _it_ for us.” Pole melted into Miong’s side.

“And I would be lying if I said I didn’t feel the same way,” His mind flew to the boy’s heartwarming smile— _a natural charmer_ , he thought. “I don’t find any reason for the Court not to give him to us, Pole. We’re both financially stable—you’re a senior associate in SyCip, I’m QC’s city engineer, we’ve never had altercations with the law, and we go to Mass _every_ Sunday.” Pole chuckled at that.

“Don’t forget that we have so much love to give to this child.”

“That we do, Pole. _That we do,_ ” Pole scrambled to climb over Miong to reach his phone from the opposite bedside table. _4:45PM,_ his phone’s clock read, and he cradled it to his chest. “It’s Natividad from Family Court.”

“Answer it, then!”

“I don’t think I can,” Pole frantically tossed the phone. “No backsies!”

“I swear, you’re such a child sometimes,” He rolled his eyes at his husband’s antics. “Hello?”

“What is she calling for?” Pole breathed near his face, which prompted him to plant his palm on Pole’s face.

“ _Quiet,_ ” Pole leaned back. “Yes... _Mmhmm_... _Yes_...Okay, we’ll be there tomorrow morning... _Alright_...Thanks.”

 _Phone be damned, we can buy a new one,_ Miong thought as he threw Pole’s phone somewhere in the room and peppered his better half with kisses.

“What did she say?” Miong paid no heed. “Stop kissing me and tell me what she said!” At this, Miong stopped and looked him square in the eyes.

“Do you really want me to stop kissing you?” Pole’s ears were getting redder by the moment.

“ _No,_ ” He threaded his fingers in Miong’s hair. “But I want to know what Natividad said before you continue.”

“Better decide what we want to name our son.” Pole gasped before resuming what Miong had started.

* * *

The couple promptly woke up at the crack of dawn, bodies and senses tingling. They prepared a bag full of supplies—a fresh set of clothes, milk, bottles, diapers, and a stuffed teddy that the couple handcrafted at a Build-A-Bear soon after they’d met _him_ seven months ago. They weren’t due to arrive for a few more hours but neither of them could go back to sleep. 

Come 11:30, they were knocking at Tantoco Center’s gate. Basilia, the woman who ran the Center, let them in and gave them directions to her office, where they were greeted by a smiling Natividad, before she left them.

“Here are the release forms. I’ll need you to sign them so you can take him home,” Basilia entered the room, cradling a swaddle of blankets. “We’ll be paying you guys a visit within the week to finalize a few paperworks, but he’s all yours.”

“Here he is.” Basilia handed the swaddle over to Miong as Pole signed the last pages of the forms.

“I can’t believe we’re his parents now.” Pole smiled softly as he handed the forms over.

“ _Hey, son,_ ” Miong whispered, the word ‘son’ foreign on his tongue but familiar to his heart. “ _We’re your new dads._ ”

Pole peered at their son from over Miong’s shoulder. _His eyes are so round—expressive and soulful,_ he thought.

“We’ve been calling him ‘little one’ here in the Center. Have you two decided on his name?” Basilia asked.

“We actually haven’t—”

“Gregorio,” Pole said softly. “He will watch, and he will _see._ ”

“Goyong,” The baby cooed, as if to answer Miong. “ _Goyong._ ”

* * *

“Can you ask Mom for her _lengua estofado_ recipe?” Pole was bouncing a laughing Goyo on his lap as he browsed cookbooks. “I want to bring a whole pot to Tanauan.” 

“I doubt she’ll give it to you.” Miong countered, but dialed his mother anyway.

“Still mad about not decorating the house for Christmas?”

“No doubt. Mostly because it’s Goyo’s first Christmas with us, and,”

“ _Every child deserves a festive home,_ yadda yadda yadda.” Pole rolled his eyes before Miong playfully swatted him on the shoulder.

“ _Behave,_ Pole,” He could not help but smile at the sight of two of the most important men in his life. “Hi, Mom! Listen, do you think there’s anyway we can get your _lengua estofado_ recipe? We want to bring some over to Pole’s home in Tanauan.”

“ _Butter up._ ” Pole mouthed as he looked at him expectantly.

“We want them to know just how delicious your recipe is,” He crossed his fingers. “ _Y_ _es,_ we’ve at least put up a Tree... _No,_ I’m _not_ lying...Okay, we’ll send you a picture of us by the Tree...Love you, too...Pole sends his regards... _Yes, I’ll send it by tomorrow_... _Bye,_ Mom.”

“We put up a Tree?” Pole raised his eyebrows at him.

“ _Shut up._ She’s sending the recipe tonight. The least we could do is indulge her.”

“We’ve never put up a Tree, have we? Do we even have one?” His thoughts flew to what they’d haphazardly stocked in the attic.

“I think I still have the one from when I lived in my own condo, but I need to sift through the boxes in the attic. Help me?”

“And get sniffles from the inch-thick dust gathering in there? No way.” Pole stuck a tongue out at him before walking to the living room.

“You’re lucky I love you!” Miong called out to the retreating figure if his husband and son.

“You’re luckier because _I_ love you.”

“I heard that!” Miong shook his head and laughed before walking to the attic. “ _It’s true, though._ ”

Miong spent the whole afternoon looking through the boxes in the attic, even finding a box full of love letters he’d given Pole when they were still dating. After a good three hours of looking through several boxes (and getting distracted by the most random of things like a tin of his old pomade), he finally found what he was looking for.

Assembled in a corner of the living room, the Tree was a good five feet of plastic leaves and bare branches. Miong knew nothing about how to decorate a tree, and that’s how Pole eventually found him after putting Goyo to sleep—sat on the floor and staring blankly at the tree. 

“I-I don’t know how to decorate a tree,” Pole sat next to him, their knees touching. “This was more of Mom and Feli’s thing.”

“If it makes you feel better, I’ve never decorated a Tree before, too,” Pole intertwined their fingers. “We never set up one in my childhood home. _Too expensive,_ my parents used to say.”

“Jesus Christ, Pole. How is _that_ supposed to make me feel better?”

“Because I don’t know how to decorate Trees, too?”

“You’ve never had a Tree! Now we really need one!” Miong abruptly stood and pulled his husband with him. “Come on! We still have about 24 hours to figure this shit out!”

“No cursing in this house, love. _We have a kid, now._ ” Pole gave him a light shove.

“You thought otherwise last night,” Miong looked at his husband’s scrunched eyebrows. “ _Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._ _Christ, Miong. Fuck._ ”

“I _fucking_ hate you.” Pole whispered indignantly.

“No, you don’t.” He planted a quick kiss on the top of Pole’s nose, earning him a glare. Both were startled when the shrill ring of their telephone filled the room.

“You’re right, I don’t— _yet,_ ” Pole walked away and into the kitchen to answer the wall phone. “Start figuring out what to do. I’m expecting a call from Alejandrino about his annulment. This might take a while.”

“Why am I always left to do all the work?” He whispered as he crouched to sift through the box of Tree decors.

After roughly 45 minutes of listening to Jose whine about the sorry state of his marriage, Pole was warming up a batch of soft cookies for them to snack on when he heard a cry of help from the living room. He ran as fast as he could, only to stop and burst in peals of laughter at the sight that welcomed him. By some peculiar fate, Miong managed to get himself entangled in a mess of streamers and twinkle lights.

“ _A little help?"_

He helped his husband disentangle himself from the mess, but faulty wiring from the twinkle lights latched onto Miong’s shirt. The wires wouldn’t budge, so he settled with having to pull the shirt over his head, and it proved to be a healthy distraction.

“30 minutes?”

“Go big, _sir_. Give us an hour.”

 _Decorating be damned_ , he thought. They could put off decorating for a few hours.

* * *

Their first Christmas tree went down in flames the day after it was decorated. 

Literally.

Turns out, the couple should have had second thoughts about the faulty wiring that ruined a shirt, even if it bought them some _time._ Miong wanted to throw all thoughts of decorating the next year out the window, but the sight of Pole heartbroken about the small fire and the ruined Tree tugged at his heartstrings.

With a firm resolve, he drove himself, Pole, and Goyong to the nearest mall and looked for a new Tree and some decorations. A saleslady came up to them and asked them what exactly they were looking for, and the pair just looked at each other. Sensing that they needed help, she walked them through all the trees and decorations available and gave her personal insights.

That same night, their Tree was all set in the living room in all its glory—foil streamers, glittery ornaments, and white fairy lights. The Tree twinkled like the brightest stars at night, but Miong thought otherwise—there was nothing brighter than the twinkle in his husband’s eyes as he looked at his first Tree.

_Merry Christmas, indeed._

* * *

A few years down the road, to say that Christmas was the Aguinaldo-Mabini family’s favorite holiday would be an understatement. What started out as the couple just setting things up for a proper family photo background to appease Miong’s mom (and get a _to die for_ recipe) turned into an extravagant tradition for family bonding. 

The couple came from families at the opposing sides of the stick—the Aguinaldos were born with a silver spoon in their mouths while the Mabinis had to deal with the struggle of putting food on the table—and yet the couple had one thing in common: They didn’t believe in decorating their house for Christmas until the year they legally adopted Goyong.

Truth be told, Miong didn’t even believe in the notion of Christmas, not even the notion of a deity and its birthday. To this he would reason out that they had a court wedding, not a church wedding, _for crying out loud._ But when he saw the way Pole’s face lit up as they watched re-runs of Martha Stewart’s Christmas specials, he knew he could never say no if he asked if they could decorate their house for the yuletide season.

* * *

On their second Christmas as a family, they bought new twinkle lights from the local hardware store, making sure it had a seal of approval to avoid a mishap like the previous year. 

“ _Stop,_ ” Miong said as he hugged Pole from the back. “We can continue this later.”

“ _No_ , I want to finish decorating _now_. Goyong’s going to wake up in an hour, I want my hands to be free.” Pole wriggled away but he pulled him back to rest against his chest.

“Come on, you can work on those _other_ balls later,” He tightened his grip on his husband when Pole’s knees buckled under him as he peppered his neck with kisses. “Don’t you want to unwrap a present?”

“S-stop, love,” Miong slipped a hand under Pole’s shirt and laid his warm hand flat on his abdomen. “I said stop!”

“ _Ow!_ ”

A loud cry resonated from their room.

“Go console your son. I’ll finish up here.” The cries grew louder.

“You’re making up for this later, Pole.” Miong said as he rubbed his foot.

“Sure, once you make him stop crying,” Pole threw his head back as he chuckled, giving him a great view of the curve of his neck. Miong bit his lip in anticipation. “But hey, _good luck with that._ ”

Miong frowned when he entered their room and approached their son’s crib. Based on previous incidents, Goyong could only be consoled by his Papa. He picked him up and tried to rock him to sleep, but to no avail.

“ _Please stop crying. Please stop crying,"_ He whispered as he rocked him a half-level stronger. “ _Dammit. Why does Pole have to be such a tease?_ ”

In one swift moment, Goyong was out from his hands and into a frowning Pole’s.

“ _You’re sleeping on the sofa tonight_.”

It was safe to say that it wasn’t only the Tree that had blue balls—Miong had a pair, too.

* * *

 _The theme for the tree changes every year_ , the couple decided. 

When Goyong turned three, the couple thought it was time to let him help with decorating.

They first wrapped the Tree in gold streamers and white fairy lights before taking turns hoisting their son up to hang the Christmas balls and to put the star on top.

“ _Stahw?_ ”

“Yes, son, that’s a star.” Miong smiled as Goyong placed the topper on the Tree.

As soon as Pole plugged the tree in and the lights lit up, Goyong was out of his arms and running around, squealing in excitement.

The couple managed to attach pieces of string to some of Goyong’s small toys and transformed them into Tree ornaments.

At first, their son threw tantrums whenever the two of them attempted to take his toys, but when Pole had taken one of his little Hot Wheels sports cars and hung them up on the tree, Goyong stopped crying and ran into his room, emerging with a box of his favorite toys and a smile that reached both his ears.

* * *

 Goyong was four years old and they had just been to the United States for Thanksgiving with Miong’s relatives in Colorado. 

“No snow, Dad?”

“No snow.”

Their son had fallen in love with winter and started crying in their living room as they explained that unlike in Colorado, where they built snowmen and made snow angels, they didn’t have snow in the Philippines.

Pole was heartbroken at the sight and started crying as he picked Goyong up and held him close, whispering _sorry’s_ and promises of taking him back to Colorado next year.

Both loves of his life were devastated.

Miong knew he had to do something—and _quick_.

He ordered a box full of spray cans of fake snow, and snow-themed decorations from the internet— _This will do_ , he thought.

When the packages arrived on their doorstep a few days later, he gave particular instructions to his husband about staying with their son in of his room until he finished decorating the living room.

“You sure you can do this alone, love? I could give you a hand?”

“For Goyong? A thousand times over.”

“Are you seriously quoting one of my immensely depressing and morbid pocketbooks to me? _In a conversation about our four-year-old son?_ ”

He shrugged before gently nudging Pole towards the direction of their son’s room.

“How do I even keep him in his room for what, _four_ hours?”

“You really think it would take me _that_ long?” It was Pole’s turn to shrug. “ _Rude._ ”

“I’ll make him watch _The Santa Clause_ , so you better finish it before the credits roll in.” Miong gave him a small salute before he disappeared into Goyong’s room.

He finished decorating the Tree in two hours.

“You’re lucky he fell asleep. I almost forgot that movie only runs for about an hour and a half,” Pole walked into the living room. “ _Oh my._ You’ve really outdone yourself, love.”

“Am I good, or am I _good?_ ”

Miong decorated the whole living room with faux snowflakes and synthetic snow. He had swapped their regular Tree with a white one, to create the illusion of a snow-covered tree, and embellished it with red and silver candy cane ornaments.

“I’m so happy I could kiss you.” Pole tugged on the hem of Miong’s shirt.

“Well, why don’t you?” Miong whipped out a sprig of mistletoe from his jean pockets, making Pole make his favorite sound—his soft and breathy laugh.

The three of them wore matching Christmas sweaters when they took the picture for their annual postcards.

An hour after taking the picture, Goyong fell sick with the sniffles from the residual fumes of the fake snow. His eyes were watery and his nose was very red.

“ _Papa, do I look like Rudolph now?_ ”

Pole thought it wasn’t a time for jokes, but ended up chuckling at how cute their son’s sneeze was. The couple just smiled lovingly at their son as Pole helped him blow his nose.

* * *

Goyong was five when the three of them started their bi-monthly habit of watching movies as a family. A month before Christmas, they lounged in the living room to watch Shrek. Goyong had gotten so attached to the gingerbread sidekick that he jumped up and down on the sofa whenever he was on-screen; even going as far as throwing a tantrum to make his dads learn how to bake gingerbread men.

That year, Christmas balls and twinkle lights were swapped with gingerbread cookies and popcorn streamers.

“Won’t ants flock to our tree?" 

“Relax. I’ve already thought this through. We’ll lace the Tree skirt with insecticide chalk and just make sure Goyong doesn’t come near the skirt.”

It took the whole day of Christmas eve to finish baking and decorating gingerbread men they were going to hang on the tree. Pole had repeatedly reprimanded Miong for swiping his fingers in the mixing bowl to eat cookie batter, and smiled as Goyong introduced to them every gingerbread person he’d made. There was one for each of his uncles and aunts, his grandparents, his cousins, even their aide, Janolino.

What warmed the couple’s hearts most were their gingerbread counterparts.

“ _Dad, this cookie isn’t you yet,_ ” Goyong broke a piece off his cookie’s head, giving it a flat top. “Now it is!” Pole’s chuckles escalated into laughter.

“Why are you laughing, Papa?” Miong gave Pole a nudge to stop him from laughing.

“Papa’s just really happy that you got his brain.” He said as he hoisted him up, Goyong erupting into a fit of giggles.

“Goyong, Dad _doesn’t_ have a mole on his face.” Miong let out a small chuckle as he admired his son’s handiwork under the kitchen light.

“ _It’s not a mole, Dad! It’s that little hole you have on your cheek when you smile!_ ”

* * *

Goyong was six when he first saw Star Wars. His dads tucked him in early for their couples’ movie night, but he sneaked out after an hour to find them cuddled up under blankets on the sofa. 

Pole untangled himself from Miong’s arms and paused the movie when their son plopped himself in front of the TV.

“Sweetheart, it’s way past your bedtime. Let me tuck you in again.”

“Nah, let him watch it. Let the kid enjoy quality cinema. Right, Goyong?”

“Yes!” Miong picked him up off the floor and seated him in between him and Pole. They watched the fourth movie of the franchise, and they were quite worried about their son. It seemed like he didn’t blink throughout the movie, and not once did he nod off.

When the holidays came around the corner, there was a scarcity of Star Wars-themed ornaments. On one weekend, the three of them spent an afternoon painting the characters on blank Christmas balls.

It was also the first time they’d worn costumes for Christmas.

Goyong made a cute mini-Luke Skywalker, Pole was happy as Han Solo, and Miong had a bit of a tantrum in their bedroom because he was forced to dress up as Darth Vader.

“Why do _I_ have to be the bad guy? I’m nice!” Pole shrugged.

“I don’t know about you, but I really find Darth Vader sexy. Maybe it’s the way he breathes heavily, or that _dom_ air about him. Don’t know. He’s just really sexy to me.”

“ _Oh really now?_ Well you, _my love_ , would look sexy in Leia’s slave outfit.”

That earned him a playful thwack on the head and a night of Star Wars quotes used out of context.

* * *

Goyong was seven when the three of them started going on trips to the beach. He had apparently developed an affinity for the sand and the sun, much to his Papa Pole’s dismay. 

 _I swear your son has lobster genes, he turns so red in so little time,_ Pole tells Miong during a long weekend in Tambobong. The couple eventually bought him a kit for making sandcastles, but he used the bucket to store seashells instead.

Goyong loved swimming in cerulean waters, but he enjoyed the feeling of dry sand between his toes most.

And so that’s what he did for every trip, swimming with his Dad and collecting seashells with his Papa.

It got to a point when his dads didn’t know what to do with the overwhelming amount of shells in his room. When they suggested throwing them out, Goyong burst into tears. _I picked all of these for Papa,_ he cried.

Pole had a bright idea.

Christmas at their household that year was Luau-themed. They hot-glued the shells on blank Christmas balls, traded in the traditional star with a mermaid tree-topper, and they dressed up in floral polos and khaki shorts.

* * *

 

“ _Dad, will Papa be home in time for Christmas? We haven’t even decorated the house._ ”

Goyong was eight and it was the 24th of December, but Pole showed no signs of making it home for Christmas.

“I don’t know what to say to him anymore. He keeps asking if Pole would be home for Christmas and I say _yes, it’s just taking him some time._ But the doctors don’t see it as a possibility. We haven’t even told Goyong about the polio. He’d be so devastated,” Miong took a long puff from his cigarette as Janolino poured him scotch. “ _I don’t want to ruin Christmas for both of them._ ”

“Sir, if you don’t mind my asking, who says you have to spend Christmas at home?”

Miong cocked his head to the side before the gears in his head turned again. 

 _Janolino deserves a raise_ , he thought.

“Have you been pouring yourself scotch, too?”

“No, sir. Why do you ask?”

With help from Janolino, Miong and Goyong hastily packed the Christmas decors in boxes before driving to the hospital. Pole was asleep when they arrived, so they made an effort to keep quiet as they worked on decorating the room.

Pole woke up the next day, smiling, to find his room fully decorated and his son and husband passed out on the couch.

“ _Miong,_ ” He called out in a raspy voice.

His voice roused Miong to wake and walk over to the bedside.

“What’s all this?”

“Well, Goyong’s pretty shaken up about how you couldn’t come home for Christmas. And I know how much you love the decorations and the whole decorating bit, but the doctors said you couldn’t come home until after Christmas, so we brought our decorated home to you. _Merry Christmas, love._ ” Miong took out a sprig of fake mistletoe from his pocket before standing to plant a soft kiss on Pole’s forehead.


End file.
